


For the Empire

by namelessJane (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Drama, M/M, Spacestuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-09-21
Updated: 2011-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:11:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/namelessJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Karkat are both training to be soldiers in the Alternian Empire's Intergalactic Space Fleet. Paired as flight partners, they struggle to get along as they fight their way through their training and for their very lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the Alternian Intergalactic Empire

**Author's Note:**

> Originaly Posted on Homesmut Kinkmeme: http://homesmut.livejournal.com/7440.html?thread=8693008#t8693008  
> Prompt: _So there's this webcomic called Starfighter http://starfightercomic.com_
> 
>  _Basically, it's spacey future war in which the ships are piloted by a fighter (the guy shooting) and a navigator (the guy driving). I'd love to see these roles filled by Karkat and John respectively! It doesn't have to have anything to do with the plot of the webcomic itself._

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These first couple of chapters are background stuff, so bare with me and hopefully you’ll think it’s entertaining until it gets into the actual story. This is my first Homestuck fic, so if I do something OOC, please feel free to bop me on the nose with a newspaper and correct my actions. Don’t expect this to have any of the hotness that is Starfighter; I didn't want it to be mostly smut. I expect this to turn out more Spacestuck than Starfightery. (I have also included universe notes at the end.)

**== >Earth: July, year 2026**  
   
It had started as such an uneventful period in human history, continuing the norms of daily life in which children were sent to school by their parents, who in turn went to their designated occupations. Politicians spread their propaganda and the more unstable countries of the world hosted the frontlines of territorial and revolutionary disputes. All was normal on the little blue planet.  
   
However, “normal” could only last for so long. Over the few weeks leading up to The Event, more and more sightings of strange objects in the sky were reported around the world, only to be shoved aside as coincidence and bigfoot- hocus-pocus. Oh, but how wrong they were.  
   
Many began to change their original impression as the sky over large cities of the world became spotted with spacecrafts like a scene from a science fiction thriller. Some of the ships were so enormous that they blocked out the sun from the busy streets below them, giving a rather intimidating display of superior technology.  
   
At first, it was sort of a novelty; most of the general public not seeing the crafts as a threat since nothing had happened since their appearance. Some witnesses amused themselves with gawking and taking pictures, while others completely ignored the alien machinery and went about their daily lives. Quacks and stupid kids, who just thought they were being funny, held up signs with apocalyptic message, pop culture references, and other various jokes or insane prophecies that no one took seriously.  
   
Then the attack came with all the drama of a Hollywood film minus a happy ending. Even though Earth eventually managed to ban their military forces together to attack the invaders, it was to no avail. Humans could not compete with the more advanced weaponry used against them and any opposition was crushed in a matter of months.

 

   
 **== > ~~Earth~~ Kappa System, Colony #2422-13: Aftermath of the Alternian Invasion**  
   
The survivors of the rather one-sided battle were all herded together at various sorting facilities throughout the newly conquered planet. Those who proved to be potentially useful and willing to cooperate were swiftly taken to work camps, mining the planet’s natural resources, building new structures and performing various other tasks of manual labor. However, those who did not, were swiftly “culled” as the new occupation liked to call it.  
   
Any children old enough to be weaned of their mothers and young enough that they were still in their impressionable stages of childhood were carted off to be reeducated in the Alternian manner. Likewise, any children born after the Great Sorting were also taken from their parents at a young, delicate age and shipped to the newly instated Galactic Academy for Wrigglers 258 near the center of the planet’s solar system. Here they were taught Alternian language, customs and history in addition to receiving a more advanced form of general education courses. This _reeducation_ eventually led to humankind’s assimilation into the Alternian Empire like the inhabitants of so many other planets before them.  
   
As with all conquered species in the Alternian Empire, humans were subordinate in the established caste system to trolls (the dominate species of the militant intergalactic domain), but as a species assimilated through the years, they went from being indentured servants to earning more esteemed occupations based on personal merit determined through aptitude tests. In some cases, an individual may even have the honor of obtaining the same work as a lowblood (a fairly prestigious achievement for someone of a conquered race).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Century Prior to Our Story:  
> In the name of Alternian conquest, Earth was invaded and conquered at the beginning of the previous century. The planet was reestablished as Kappa System Colony #2422-13 as well as mined of its resources. The fate of the survivors of this invasion depended on their potential usefulness and their willingness to cooperate. Those who failed to meet these standards were culled without hesitation, but the more fortunate individuals that did were destined for a life of servitude or manual labor in the mines. Earth children old enough to be weaned from their mother's care, but young enough to still be in their impressionable stage of childhood, were collected and ushered off to be reeducated in the Alternian manner. Likewise, any human born after the initial abduction of Earth children were taken to The Interspecies Academy, where they were taught Alternian language and customs all for the greater good of the Empire. This eventually led to the assimilation of humans, like so many other conquered beings before them, into Alternian society.
> 
> The Conquered:  
> All conquered species in the Alternian Empire were subordinate in the caste system to the Trolls, the original and reigning species, and started their admission into society as indentured servants, but as they assimilated through the years, earned improved occupations.
> 
> Since conquered species did not provide genetic material for the Trollian gene pool, culling laws were generally more relaxed in regards to personal aptitude. All one had to do was prove to have usefulness and would most likely avoid culling, or at the least be spared for slavery. In rare cases, individuals were seen as capable enough to hold the same occupations as low bloods and were permitted to work fairly prestigious jobs for a conquered race.
> 
> Relationships:  
> It is considered taboo for a troll to fill their less than platonic quadrants with beings of another species, and could even be a cull worthy offense. This is not out of fear of blurring the interspecies lines, as most other species are genetically incompatible with Trolls, but because it means a lack of the buckets of genetic material required from each troll and their two significant others. Some pardon is given to those who had just lost a partner or if they are capable of filling a complete bucket alone, rather than the usual half twice a sweep. So, it is rare for a Troll to risk being culled or accidently killing themselves due to fluid depletion for an inferior species. 
> 
> Military:  
> The first soldiers diploid are always nontrolls and lowbloods as a sort of meat shield for the more valuable caste members, sent into test the waters against unknown enemies or to weaken them before the stronger ranks are sent in. They are trained to use a verity of weapons in addition to hand to hand combat, but only the most skilled are trained to operate small, less expensive, war vehicles.
> 
> Occupation:  
> Outside of the military, the blood-caste system still applies. The lowest are laborers or service providers, then craftsmen, scientists and engineers, occupations pertaining to law, government officials and politicians, and the highest level, royalty.  
> 


	2. Troll Youth #DC143C-3937500

**== > Alternian Nursery Planet #26, Galactic Sweep 286,411, First Quarter: Sorting Day**  
   
A troll boy of approximately seven sweeps sat with a husk top in his lap, trolling and being trolled by his friends, while watching cheesy romantic comedies on his film viewing box. Aside from the angry banging of keys under the boy’s claws and the occasional frustrated noise from himself or clicking from his crustacean like lusus, the troll’s modest hive was relatively still and homey. Various drawings, graded papers and notes were posted on the thermal hull, and the occasional photograph or poster decorated a wall here and there.   
   
The troll adolescent paused his angry typing to scowl at his friend’s slightly concerning messages.  
   
twinArmageddons: oh 2hiit  
twinArmageddons: 2omethiing2 goiing on iin my hive complex  
twinArmageddons: ii can hear 2creamiing  
twinArmageddons: what the fuck iis that  
twinArmageddons: oh 2hiit oh 2hiit  
twinArmageddons: iit threw my lu2u2 through my wall  
twinArmageddons: sdfklagnejl;n l  
   
He stared at the screen a moment longer before recommencing his angry key-banging, questioning the other youth with no further reply, but was interrupted by his own hive door being smashed in by a robo-drone. “The fuck,” was all he managed to stutter out before his angry crab-lusus was struck down in its attempt to protect the young troll. The embarrassingly short horned adolescent gapped in shock before giving a rabid snarl and leaping to attack the intruder that had just murdered his lusus.  
   
 Unfortunately, the mechanical drone easily overpowered him, manhandling him out the gaping hole it had made upon its entry. No matter how he thrashed and clawed and hit, the boy could hardly make a dint in the robot’s metal casing or twist from its iron grip, quickly exhausting himself. He bit back frustrated tears as he watched his hive, being torn apart by the carpenter drones that had originally helped him build it, fade into the distance as he was hauled away to a passenger ship to be corralled with other confused and bruised trolls of his approximate age.  
   
Once the transporter ship reached its maximum capacity, it took its anxious cargo to the orbiting sorting facility outside of the nursery planet’s atmosphere. After docking, the youths were forced into single file and shepherded through a series of robots and machinery like bleatbeasts to slaughter.  
   
Upon reaching the first robot, our short horned troll was ordered by an artificial voice to, “PLACE YOUR ARM IN THE SLOT PALM UP AND STATE YOUR FULL NAME.” He blinked and did as he was told, the walls of the contraption clamping down on his arm to keep it still as he answered, “Karkat Vanta s.” Eyes that were already wide from confusion flew open impossibly wider as they bugged out in horror when a needle came down into his opened hand. Karkat’s head snapped away from the bead of crimson forming in the center of his palm when a beep drew his attention to the monitor in front of him, text scrolling across it.  
   
=> Youth #DC143C-3937500: Karkat Vantas…  
=> Species: Troll…  
=> Hemochrome: Error…Protocol 21-492…  
   
The machine stabbed into his palm again and Karkat gave an aggravated hiss and cursed under his breath.  
   
=> Hemochrome: Error…Protocol 28-754…  
=> Hemochrome: Hemomutation…  
=> Classification: Hemoerror…Protocol 78-103…  
=> Classification: Default to Lowblood…  
=> Restrictions: Class 02-84…Class 02-85…Class 12-13…Class 36-09…Class 58-24…Class 69…  
=> Registration Complete…  
   
Karkat gave a surprised yelp when additional clamps came down around his feet and a forth secured his neck at an angle, forcing him to stare at the metal floor. A sharp sting erupted in his flesh as the offending machinery around him simultaneously printed barcodes into the back of his neck and wrist. He held in a second shameful yelp at the pain, but let a feral growl grow in his chest that only grew stronger after the clamps released him.  
   
“PROCEED TO BLOCK 3 FOR LOWBLOOD ADOLECENT TRIAL.”

 

   
 **== > Alternian Interspecies and Lowblood Intergalactic Military Space Academy, Galactic Sweep 286,413, Third Quarter  
==> Karkat: Get up you lazy fuckass**  
   
Karkat Vantes, approximately nine sweeps old, somehow managed not to be culled over his “disgusting mutant blood” after being rounded up two sweeps ago and was shipped off to military school feeding so the empire could give him the honor of being part of its esteemed meat-shield. Rather than wasting a perfectly good body to kamikaze into the enemy’s face and the time that would have been squandered in the effort to cull him, he was spared on the expectation of him dying in battle sometime during his first sweep on the frontline.  
   
Lowbloods and non-trolls designated to the Alterian forces were often destined to die horrible fates at the hands of the enemy for the purpose of testing the strengths of an opposition or depleting their numbers before the more vital soldiers were sent in the finish the job. In short, he was a pawn on the frontlines of the nookstain of playing board called Alternian Conquest, all in the name of the empire’s beloved ruler.  
   
To make matters worse, today, he was woken up from the first chance he had had to sleep in three days (or at least what is commonly considered a “day” in deep space), by what he was currently convinced was the most torturous form of an alarm clock ever to have the privilege of violently raping his sound receptacles.  
   
“SECTIONS N35 AND F89 REPORT TO BRIEFING ROOM 4 ON LEVEL 7… SECTIONS N35 AND F89 REPORT TO BRIEFING ROOM 4 ON LEVEL 7,” the artificial voice, which made Karkat want to give in to pure fury and slaughter innocent bystanders, droned on, repeating itself four more times before finally shutting the fuck up.  
   
The troll pulled himself out of his recuperacoon with a groan before rinsing off the spore slime in his hygiene block and throwing on his training uniform in what must have been record breaking time and begrudgingly followed the orders the irritating electronic woman had given. He was absolutely _thrilled_ at the prospect of being barked at by his nooksucking highblood drill sergeant so soon after waking up from a much needed, but tragically interrupted nap.


	3. Human Youth #nZ7Un6BI-1025413

**== > Galactic Academy for Wrigglers 258, Galactic Sweep 286,408, Fourth Quarter, Earth year 2136**  
   
A human boy, barely approaching the last quarter of his forth sweep, stirred as the child in the hammock below his own prodded his back through the thick fabric. “John,” poke, “John, wake up,” prod.  
   
The boy, John, carefully hung his head over the edge of his hammock to look at the blond boy below with a groggy smile, synthetic gravity pulling his black bangs away from his face and causing his glasses to slip off his nose precariously, “huh?”  
   
The other boy stifled a very uncool giggle into a forced cough, “you’re such a dork.”  
   
John sulked, “Daaaaaaave, that’s not nice,” before futilely trying to situate his glasses back to their proper position while whining, “why’d you wake me up, I was having a good dream.”  
   
“I was just…” Dave trailed off for a second in fleeting display insecurity, “are you nervous about tomorrow?”  
   
John shook his head and blinked questioningly through the dark at his best friend, “are you?”  
   
“No, of course not. I have no reason to be, but I thought you might be,” the blond quickly defended, “I was just wonderin’ what we'd do if they separated us. I mean, it’s not like we won’t be in the same station and all, but what if we never see each other again. This place is unironicly huge, yeh know?”  
   
John frowned for a moment, he hadn’t thought of that happening. He knew that the tests they had to take in the morning could place them in different sections, but it never occurred to him that it could mean being separated. “We’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen then,” he chirped with a silly, optimistic grin brightening his worried features.  
   
“Okay Derp, but how, oh shhh….” Both boys conspicuously threw themselves properly back into their hammocks, pretending to be asleep as the clicking of claws approached their bunk room. An ominous shadow paused in the doorway accompanied by the sound of sniffing and a low growl before the clicking continued down the hall.  
   
John swallowed, holding a fist to his chest as he tried to calm the hammering of his heart against his ribcage. He was fairly certain that he would never get used to the floor warden’s black woofbeast Jack (especially with all the terrifying rumors that surrounded him). The older kids told horror stories about how, if Jack caught you awake or out of bed after lights out on one of his rounds, the warden would let him eat you. Once he had gotten his pulse to settle down, he whispered, “good night, Dave,” barely registering the hushed “’night” returned before drifting back into a fitful sleep.  
 

 

 **== > Galactic Academy for Wrigglers 258, Galactic Sweep 286,411, First Quarter: Sorting Day  
==> John: Wake up and do some last minute cramming**  
   
John, now in the middle of his seventh sweep, sighed and stretched his arms above his head, trying to rid them of the tingling sensation of sleep and his mind from numbing dreams of the past. He hated memory dreams, especially ones like that; ones about Dave. Just as Dave had feared, their aptitude tests had placed them in different education sections. John was placed in a science and technology focused department, but Dave was prescribed to athletics and intergalactic history and culture.  
   
He remembered crying like he was a two sweep wriggler that had just been taken away from their mother, and clung to his best bro when they were assigned to their new bunk blocks. Dave on the other hand was as cool as ever, just patting him on the head and claiming, “That’s not cool, bro. Yeh act like I’m dying or somethin’. Just like you said, it’ll be alright. We can do this. We’re gonna make this happen.” The only thing was…they didn’t make it happen.  
   
In the rare instances that they did see each other, Dave would barely give him more than a “Sup” with his trademark “don’t give a shit” air. Even though the blond had had an apathetic facade since they were little, John had not been expecting to be treated the same as any other passerby. They were best friends, bros for life; he did not expect Dave to be an open book, but he wanted to be trusted enough to be shown some form of emotion.  
   
He could not put all the blame on Dave though. John knew he could have tried harder to keep them together; demanded the cool kid spend time with him and actually make him talk. However, he knew their separation probably had not been any easier on Dave, and he was likely given the cold shoulder because Dave was afraid of having to say goodbye again.  
John groaned and finally pulled himself out of bed, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes with a flustered whine, willing the gloom from his thoughts. He needed to get his head in the game. He was going to receive his destiny today. Man was he ever regretting not studying just one more hour for his written test…Though he supposed everything would be peachy as long as he did not derp on his physical assessment. He prayed that it would just be basic gym exercises and not the wacky deathtrap agility course the final exam was rumored to be.  
 

 **== > John: Thank gog you did not die in the aforementioned wacky deathtrap**  
   
Good lorg, that aptitude test was completely ridiculous for placing humans. John figured they might as well just cull half the kids that went through it to save them the humiliation. To be honest, he was surprised he had done as well as he did, but he still came out of it with some pretty wicked scrapes and bruises.  
   
In retrospect, a hammer was probably not the best weapon choice as far as defense and speed go, but it had gotten the job done. It had proven to be especially useful against the robotic training drones that randomly popped up to attack him, trying to slow him down as he raced through the course and keep him from reaching the end before the timer stopped.  
   
John slid down a wall in a hallway to sit on the floor across from a lift, nursing his wounds and fresh barcode tattoos. He was not ready to take the elevator back down to his level so he could go back to his block for the last time. As thrilled as he was to start a new chapter of his life, the Galactic Academy was all he knew. He had been too young to remember anything about his parents when he was taken away from them and students were not permitted to leave the station until their sorting day. He guessed that he was actually kind of terrified of leaving everything and everyone he knew.  
   
“Hey Derp, why are yeh sittin’ in the hall,” a familiar voice interrupted his train of thought.  
   
It was Dave. Dave was talking to him! John started to smile but it faltered a moment as he questioned his sanity, wondering if he was dreaming. It was not until the blond smoothly sunk down to sit next to him that John realized that he was in fact very much awake, and let the huge grin that had been suppressed moments ago stretch across his face, “Dave!”  
   
Dave stared blankly at the lift in front of them, John barely catching the flash of red irises when they took a quick side glance in his direction, “So…where are they sendin’ yeh?”  
   
John fidgeted for a second and gave a nervous laugh, “military schoolfeeding.”  
   
At this the blond turned his head to fully look at John as if he was trying prove he was hearing things with a flash of a grimace, “Shit, seriously, bro?”  
   
“Heh heh, Yeah,” the awkward teen confirmed, “I know right, me a soldier? Who would have guessed? Heh…but it’s not all that bad. If everything goes well I should get to be a fighter ship pilot! That’s cool, right?” He fidgeted shyly again, “Where…where are you going?”  
   
Dave was silent for a drawn out moment before saying, “Can’t tell yeh, it’s a secret.”  
   
John’s eyebrows furrowed together and his mouth opened and closed several times in an attempt to say something before finally getting over his nerves thanks to releasing a little repressed anger, “Damn it, Dave, you can’t suddenly decide to talk to me again and refuse to answer a simple question like that. I answered you, so it’s only fair you tell me, or are you going to be an insufferable prick and purposefully leave me to worry about you again.”  
   
Dave seemed genuinely surprised at the other boy’s outburst for a second before his impassive mask fell back into place and he returned to staring at the lift, “I-I really can’t tell yeh dude. I’m not allowed to, I swear. I totally would if I could.” He swallowed hard and his voice cracked slightly as he continued, “just be careful, bro. You’ve always been such a dork, so just look after yerself, okay.” With that the cool kid briskly got back to his feet and strode away before John had the chance to question him further.  
   
John stared a hole in the back of Dave’s blond head, chewing on his lip out of nervous habit, until he disappeared around a corner. He assumed his estranged friend had either landed himself a super-cool-top-secret placement (Which he wanted to believe with all his heart; he thought Dave would make an awesome secret agent)…or the blond had completely lied and he was headed somewhere too terrible to say out loud. John had never been able to tell when Dave was lying though. So he optimistically decided that it was defiantly the first option, and Dave would be learning how to be a kickass spy like in the action movies he watched.  
   
John laughed listlessly to himself and blinked a couple of tears from his eyes before finally struggling back to his feet to say his goodbyes to the only home he had known. Being a kid growing up is hard, and no one understands.


	4. This Can’t End Well

**== > Alternian Interspecies and Lowblood Intergalactic Military Space Academy, Galactic Sweep 286,413, Third Quarter  
==> John: Fail to look like a soldier full of man-grit**

John stood at attention along with the other pilots-in-training in his unit awaiting orders in briefing room four. He hardly looked like a proper soldier; more like a lost child than anything else. His uniform looked like it had spent the night on the floor and his short black hair suffered from severe bed head, sticking up in cowlicks in several places. He was bound to make a horrible first impression on whoever received him as their partner, and crossed his fingers that he would not screw anything else up.

The air in the room became tangibly tense as Sergeant Kommli entered the room. He was an intimidating blue blood with straight-as-a-board posture, sharp features and even sharper fangs protruding over his black lips from his upper jaw, and a pair of neatly curled ram’s horns with points that extenuated his prominent cheek bones. Naturally he was a no nonsense type of guy; everything was serious business to him.

Kommli was technically in charge of the artillery unit F89, but now that John’s pilot unit was to be paired up with a member of the gunner unit, Kommli would be their new commander. The troll stalked in front of his new trainees, examining them with a critical eye. Much to the human’s horror, the sergeant paused in front of John and glowered down at him with a very unimpressed scoff before finally continuing his march to center of the room.

“Listen up you pathetic bunch of wrigglers,” he growled, “for the next half a sweep it will be my job to prepare you for battle field and your inevitable demise. Despite my efforts to teach you how to survive, most of you idiots will die sometime during your first official week on active duty, if not during these last two quarters of training. But here I am anyway, bestowing vital knowledge on your rotten think pans. If you pay attention and demonstrate that you are not complete wastes of oxygen, you might just prove me wrong.” He then gestured to one of his subordinates who began rattling off pairs from the two units.

John stared across at the other unit while half listening for his name to be called, examining their faces and wondering who would be his partner. Like his own unit, most of them were young troll males and only a few were of another species; but none of the artillery unit were human. In fact, in addition to John, there were only a handful of humans in the station, and even then they were all pilots or were assigned another of the less physical posts.

“N35 Egbert, F89 Vantas,” Oh, that’s right, he was supposed to be paying attention, “N35 Egbert,” the officer repeated more firmly, clearly irritated that whoever this Egbert person was not falling into place like he should have been. John jerkily stepped out of the lineup with his fellow pilots and stumbled into position next to a rather irritated troll under the grave scrutiny of his superiors.

He smiled sheepishly when Vantas, his new flight partner, sneered at him, to which the troll rolled his eyes with an annoyed grumble. John held in a nervous chuckle and tried to keep from shuffling his feet awkwardly until Vantas finally looked away.

Though John was not small for an adult human male, standing at a (perfectly acceptable!) five-foot-nine with gangly limbs that had a modest amount of muscle, his new partner still had an eight or nine inches on him. The scary thing was that Vantas was actually on the small side for a troll. He had a shorter, leaner build than the normal bulk adult trolls carried to allow them tank through a mob of enemies and blunt horns that could not be any longer than the length of his palm, but it made him no less intimidating to John. The elegant curve of his muscles under his uniform and the intensity of his yellow and red gaze reminded him of one of those panther creatures he had seen pictures of in an Earth biology record he had managed to get his hands on back at his wriggler academy.

He let his train of thought die there when he realized how awkward it was to be eyeballing another guy, especially one he found bizarrely striking …no scratch that too, interesting, he only thought his new partner was interesting and nothing more.

 

 **== > Karkat: Find the whole situation unbearably irritating**

Oh, this was just grand! Of course he would get stuck with a pathetic pink monkey for a pilot. Everything about the bulge sucker he had manage to take in the short moment since the human tripped over himself trying to fall into place, to that idiotic fucking smile, made something in the troll burn. Not only was it an excepted truth that humans were squishy weaklings and obviously inferior to trolls, he seemed to have gotten himself stuck with the most pathetically dense one to ever have the misfortune of being birthed. This dumbass was going to get him killed, and that was _outstanding_.

Now that the officer had finished listing off team pairs, it was Sergeant Douche-Bag’s turn to make this morning even more of a living hell. “Congratulations, you have now met the dolt you will be spending the rest of your existence with. Your survival will depend on how well the two of you are able to coordinate together. Therefore, form this point on, you are now best friends. If you want to live to see your next sweep, you will be so in sync with each other that your bond will tighter than any quadrant bullshit you can think of. You will need to anticipate each other’s movements like they are your own, and for the love of gog, watch each other’s backs. In an attempt to speed up this process, you will not only be living together, but I want you to spend every waking moment with each other until you can read each other so well, it’s like you have a fucking psychic connection,” Kommil lectured on.

Oh, fuck no. There was no way in troll hell that Karkat was going to spend any time on this bonding bullshit with a human. He was not going to spend any more time with this Egbert bastard than their required flight training, and that was final.

“Now then, to weed out those of you will have no hopes of ever being able to succeed together; you will participate in a little challenge. Those of you who fail will be booted from my unit and will have my sincere wishes that you survive your reassessment,” the sergeant finally finished with a shark toothed grin.


	5. Simulated Fatality

**== > Alternian Interspecies and Lowblood Intergalactic Military Space Academy, Flight Training Block 125  
==> Karkat: Try to avoid your inevitable culling**

“Alright, you nookstains,” Sergeant Kommil barked at the line up of pilots and gunners, “You will be put through an advanced level flight simulation test. I expect you all to last at the very least fifteen minutes. If you fail,” he sneered, “kindly get the hell out of my sight before I decided to cull you myself.” The advanced simulations were like suicide missions. No one. NO ONE, ever passed them in their entirety. They were always some bogus scenario of a single fighter ship against a seemingly infinite number of enemies that kept coming, wave after wave. At least only having to get through the first fifteen minutes would mean that they’d only be hitting to tip of the iceberg of the bullshit the program came up with.

The first pair barely scraped by and the second was just short, receiving the boot as soon as they pulled themselves from the bulky simulator in the center of the room. As discouraging as the first pairs’ runs were, most of the following managed to pull off just over sixteen minutes, a couple lasting impressively longer than the others, but none made it any longer than a half hour.

“Next pair up, Vantas and Egbert,” one of the officers read mechanically from his list and Karkat swallowed a lump in his throat.

Karkat lowered himself into the flight simulator warning the human that followed shortly after with a growling, “I swear to gog if you get me culled, I will fucking haunt you. I will haunt you so hard that every pathetic second of your puny human life will be filled with so much paranoia, pain and fear that you won’t know up from down. Your think pan will be so twisted in awe and terror at my god-like haunting brilliance, that you will become such a mess of trembling pink mass that the sanitation drones will be doing you a favor by mistaking you for a pile of rubbish and disposing you in the waste incinerator like trash you are.”

The human chuckled-CHUCKLED of all things, and then to prove what a monumental idiot he was, dared to call Karkat funny. The troll could not believe the impotence of this…this idiot. He was so unbelievably irritating and…holly fuck what was he doing!

“All right, let’s do this!” John cheered while suddenly pushing buttons and whirling gears on the holographic control panel in front of him. The simulator shuttered to life, mimicking the jarring sensation of booster jets lifting a fighter ship out of the bindings that held it in place in the hanger, and the even more concerning pressure of launching followed by the half weightlessness of the ships poor gravitation system in open space. Karkat did not believe he would ever get used to the drastic contrast in gravity that made his digestive system do somersaults over itself. The John-human gave a “woohoo” and laughed like a maniac as if it was some kind of joyride.

The radar pinged alerting both males that they had company, “ENEMIES APPROACHING, ENEMIES APPROACHING.”

“Shit,” The troll breathed on a steady exhale, here went nothing. He readied himself for battle, simultaneously keeping an eye on the radar and the digital screen of the simulator with his hands ready on his own holographic control panel.

The human kept the same irritatingly excited grin on his face, as if he was playing a game; as if their lives weren’t potentially on the line if they failed and went for reassessment. Karkat knew for a fact that he’d be culled. There was no point in keeping a mutant alive if they couldn’t pull their own weight and make themselves worth something more that fertilizer for the culling fields or woofbeast food. John however, had it easy. Humans were not normally culled since they did not provide genetic material to the Trollian gene pool. At worst, he’d probably be made a slave planet-side somewhere.

Sharp reflexes allowed Karkat to take down most to the enemy ships and missiles that came into range, but he missed one and it was coming in fast. “Human! Do something!” he yelled, while taking the ship that launched said missile out of commission, “Human, NOW!”

“John,” the human said curtly, before running his fingers over his own command panel.

“What? What the hell does that have to do with anything!” he yelled, panic setting in. They were going to die in the simulation, and he was going to actually die and it would all be this fucker's fault, “Fucking do something! It’s out of range, I can’t take it out myself without fucking up our shield, you idiot!”

“My name is John,” he clarified. Karkat felt like he was going to be sick as the simulator perfectly made the ship feel like it went into a barrel roll before taking more intricate turns and twists. Oh gog. He evacuated protein chute.

“Aw, sick dude,” The human said, his nose crinkling in disgust, before returning his attention to keeping them from getting killed with more nauseating spins, laughing the entire time.

Karkat managed to pull himself together enough to actually do his job, shooting down another fighter ship or missile when he was not too disoriented by John’s insane piloting. They managed to make it nearly forty-five minutes (mostly thanks to said insane piloting) before they were surrounded. Neither John’s impressive stunts nor Karkat’s sharp shooting could get them out of such a sticky situation; the ship barrel rolling out of the trajectory of one missile, only to be struck by another making John lose control of the ship before they collided with one of the enemy’s and the simulator hiccuped to a stop.

Much to Karkat’s embarrassment, there was already a sanitation drone waiting clean up his disgraceful mess when he and John climbed out to the simulator. Kommil gave him a disapproving look before turning to look down his pointy nose at John. “Impressive flying for a human, hopefully this was not just a lucky fluke,” he complemented before adding, “However, for your future reference, I expect my men to not show up looking like they were busy filling buckets all night.” The human turned almost as scarlet and Karkat’s own disgusting blood at the blue blood’s implications and shuffled his feet like an anxious little girl.

“Alright you sorry wastes of space, I expect you to survive an hour next time, so do not disappoint me,” the sergeant warned the combined unit before marching out of the room and freeing everyone to their regular training schedules.


	6. What IsBonding?

**== > Respite Block Bay, Block 413  
==> John: Hang out with your new roommate (IE piss him off until he wants to rip your head off)**

 

John kicked the bottom of the door, hoping his new roommate would be kind enough to open it for him, as his own hands were occupied with a duffle bag and a box full of films. He waited for a moment before kicking again, “Come on Vantas! My arms are falling off out here. Just press the button and let me in already.” Another kick and the troll finally obliged, retreating back to his desk chair grumbling something about “stupid humans” as the block door opened and closed again behind John with a hydraulic swish. “Thanks,” the pilot said with a barely detectable edge of sarcasm to his usual cheerfulness.

“So,” John started, dumping his belongings unceremoniously on what he assumed was his bed since the other was a recuperacoon, “I’ve never had a troll for a roommate. This is pretty cool. So you guys really do sleep in slime. Sounds like it would feel really gross to me…it’s all green and stuff,” he paused to poke a couple of fingers in without asking, “Ew! Yeah that’s pretty sick. Sleeping in that would be so weird. How do you not drown?”

“Human!” Vantas growled in warning, about to explode into another rant.

“John, my name is John, not human,” the human corrected with a cheerful whistle, wiping the spore slime off his fingers and onto the edge of the recuperacoon, “Just thought you’d like to know.”

“Grawah!” the troll roared, wiping around from his seat in front of his computer, “Yes of course! Every particle of my being was dying to know what your fucking lusus dubbed you on the loathsome day of you creation, so that I may forever shun it and writing down on the list of people who infuriate me to no end. This is how many fucks I give about what your name is. Just shut the fuck up, and for gog’s sake, get your fucking hands out of there. The last thing I need is to be infected by your filthy human bacteria.”

John raised his hands in mock surrender, but still couldn’t help but let out a good natured chuckle, “Okay, okay. You’re kind of a firecracker, aren’t you?” He only laughed harder at the troll’s glare, “I’m sorry, you’re just so crabby that it’s kind of cute.”

Vantas raised his eyebrow in a dramatic arch before his face once again twisted into a humorously seething scowl, “Cute. You think I’m cute. You think my anger is cute?” He rose from his seat and stalked over to John, who was second guessing his teasing as he was pulled up by the collar of his uniform, “Do you realize that I could rip you to pieces in seconds? And you have the audacity to say that I’m cute? Let me tell you something you squishy waist of oxygen. If my life was not relying on your pathetic existence as my pilot, I swear to gog, I would rip you limb from limb right here.” He shoved John back nearly making him fall back onto his ass, “next time you act like a cheeky little bastard, I’ll give you something to really laugh about, you bulge-licker.”

“Eh heh,” John gave a sheepish smile while rubbing his neck, “sorry I called you cute then.” The troll gave an eye roll and snorted before slamming himself back down into his chair. John stared at the back of his head for a second before turning back to his things and shuffling through his movies, “So…What’s your name? Besides Vantas I mean, which I would be cool calling you, but I mean you already know my full name, and stuff.”

Vantas gave an exasperated sigh, “It’s Karkat. Happy? Good. Now shut your protein chute before I shut it for you.”

“Nice to meet you, Karkat,” John chirped back ignoring the trolls threat. He then turned back to shuffle and sort through his things some more while humming a little tune. Karkat let out an exaggerated grown, but did not bother to complain this time, so John figured humming was at least acceptable and kept at it while he unpacked and put his things away.

“Hey Karkat?”

“What? What, John? What is so important that you feel the need to interrupt me yet again, to spew useless hoofbeast shit again,” Karkat bit.

“I was just wondering if you like movies? I really do, so I thought it would be really cool if you did, because we could like share movies and watch them together and stuff,” John explained approaching Karkat’s desk with his box of movies in hand. He held it out like an offering and put on his best puppy eyes.

“I do like movies, but I would never watch them with you. There is no way you would appreciate my refined taste with that rotten thinkpan of yours,” Kartkat answered, scowling at the hologram in front of him, rather than at John.

“Aw, but Karkat,” John pouted, “Come on. You could try to explain them to me if I don’t get your movies! I’m totally willing to learn. And you can watch mine too and I can explain them to you if you don’t get them, and…”

John was cut off by Katkat’s grey palm clamping over his mouth. The troll eyed the box of movies disdainfully before giving John a very serious look, “Okay, here’s the deal. I get to pick the movies we watch, when we watch them. And you! You, have to stay quiet or I will rip your soundbox out. Got it?”

Resisting the urge to lick the trolls hand in a bout of prankster’s fun, John nodded furiously, adding a muffled “Gaud utf” for good measure, before Karkat finally removed his hand. “Okay! That’s settled then. I’m so excited, my last roommates couldn’t care less about movies, and now I finally have a movie night buddy!” Karkat drug his hand over his own face when John continued to yammer on and on in a manner that made him look like a hyperactive little woofbeast. He really wished the guy had an off button.


	7. All Your Base Are Belong to Us

**== > Alternian Interspecies and Lowblood Intergalactic Military Space Academy, Galactic Sweep 286,413, Beginning of the Fourth Quarter  
==> Karkat: Contemplate your partner**

 

Despite how irritating the human was, John was a very good pilot, or at least in theory since they had yet to fly an actual ship. In fact, John’s proficiency in the cockpit was on par with a troll’s, and a more experienced one at that. This of course did not change the fact the he was infuriating and a complete social retard. He always managed to say the most ignoramus things at the most inopportune moments, making all the other cadets he encountered either completely pissed off or worried for the boy’s sanity. There had been more than one occasion in which Karkat had to save his scrawny ass from being beaten to a pulp for unintentionally insulting someone.

He also had this ridiculous obsession with some very long dead human actor from before the human’s home planet was conquered, and tried to get the troll to watch the guy’s movies whenever the chance arose. However, he was also just as eager to watch Karkat’s movies and learn what the troll was interested in, claiming that “they could never be friends if they did not share their interests and learn about each other” or some sentimental shit like that.

Even more exasperating was the fact that John always had this ridiculous grin plastered on his face and such a dorky, care free laugh. He seemed to have retained a childlike innocence into his adult life. Nothing ever seemed to really get to him. Every time he did something stupid or Karkat yelled at him, the human would just laugh it off and maybe crack a joke.

This was sort of a double edged sword to Karkat. Where John’s derpyness was vaguely endearing, his easy going attitude and constant smiles made a twisted knot of jealousy bubble up in the troll. It wasn’t fair that this human could have had such an easy life when Karkat’s was miserable. It was not fair that John had to have had an easy childhood to be so carefree, when he had live in constant fear of his blood color being discovered and then the ridicule and rejection he faced after his sorting day. Nothing in Karkat’s life was fair, and it made him hate John for being so damn happy all the fucking time.

Karkat had to suffer through perigees of mixed feelings as his view of his partner flip-flopped between mild admiration, pity, and disgust day after day, after day.

 **== > Virtual Training Block 912  
==> Karkat: Complain to your Moirail**

Karkat tugged the virtual reality mask off of his face and commented, “The contact synopsis is still a bit laggy. The fucking delay is messing everything up.”

“Thit, thtill,” a bespectacled troll sounded from the control panel to Karkat’s right, “give me a minute to ficth it.”

“All right, well I’ll just sit here on my ass while you ‘ficth it’,” he gave an annoyed sigh, “I swear to gog you are almost as pitiable as my pilot, Tholluth.”

“Whoa there KK, we’ve already done the pity thing. Remember how that worked out?” The other troll chuckled, claws clacking away on his input board, “but thpeaking of your pilot…How are thingth going between you too.”

“Oh gog, don’t fucking remind me Captor. I think I’d rather pull out my digestive tract through my protein chute than ever flush for you again…and don’t go getting any fucking ideas about me and the human. He’s a fucking lost cause. I didn’t think it was possible to simultaneously pity and loath someone so much. It’s enough to make me want to bash my own skull in with a rock,” Karkat vented to his yellow blooded moirail.

“Oh come on KK, he can’t be that bad if you haven’t thcreamed him to death already. I think it’th damn commendable that he’th put up with your thit for a quarter of a thweep already,” Sollux teased, relishing at the absolutely peeved look he got from the other, “Anyway, you don’t really have to worry about what quadrant he fallth into thince you’re forbidden from filling bucketth anyway…well not that you would be able to fill a bucket with a human if you could…the point ith, you need to take the thtick out of your nook and thtop over thinking it, KK.”

Karkat gave another growl, “I’m serious! I don’t pity or hate him in any way other than purely platonically. The fuckass is too squishy and pink to make a good kismesis and too irritating to pity for more than a few minutes before he pulls some bullshit move that fucks everything to hell.”¬

“Whatever, KK, jutht put your mathk back on already, let’th try thith again,” the other troll said with an eye roll.

“About fucking time,” the mutant blood grumbled pulling the virtual reality mask back over his eyes.

“Jutht be careful of black madneth,” Sollux chirped in a sing song voice with a slight smirk.

Karkat tore the mask back off yelling, “What the fuck Sollux,” and stomped over to his moirail, yanking him up by his shirt, or at least trying too. It was kind of awkward considering he was taller than Karkat, all sharp gangly limbs and right angles.

“I’m jutht thaying, KK,” the troll defended with an impish smile, “pailing theathon is coming up for black quadrant and jutht becauthe the Empire forbidth you from it, doethn’t mean it’th not in your inthtinctth. We wouldn’t want you to jump your roomie’th boneth, now would we.”

“Okay, that’s it, I’m smashing your face in,” the red blood growled, attempting to shove the other into the wall.

“WARNING. WARNING. THE STATION IS UNDER ATTACK. PLEASE REPORT TO BATTLE STATIONS. WARNING. WARNING. THE STATION IS UNDER ATTACK,” a red light began flashing in the room alongside the electron voice of the information program.

 **== > Respite Block Bay, Corridor 15  
==> John: Return from a hard day of flight simulation study**

John made his way back to his shared respite block with his hands shoved in his pockets, frustrated that he was still only able to make it simulation level 5 before everything went to hell in a hand basket. Though this was above and beyond what was expected of him to begin with, he still wanted to do better. However, his drive had not gone unnoticed.

With how well he was doing, his superiors had suggested he may be able to fly more than just a dinky starfighter ship…but that would mean reassignment. He would undoubtedly be the only human and possibly even nontroll in whatever section they moved him too. And he wouldn’t have Karkat anymore. It wasn’t like he was particularly attached to the troll, but it really helped to have a familiar face to back you up. Alternian society was harsh, and it was vital to have allies to turn to when things got ugly.

It didn’t help that Karkat was so confusing. The troll angrily chased off most attempts John made at trying to befriend him, but then would turn right around and pull him out of trouble if he accidentally, maybe pissed off a speciesist troll and maybe, accidentally provoked said troll enough that they oh, literally tried to disembowel him (the whole thing was a complete accident, he swore!).

Maybe he just wasn’t going about it in the right way. Movies seemed to work really well, but as much as he loved them, they weren’t exactly conducive to conversations about one another. All the other partners in their section were better bonded to each other than they were; granted they were a bit closer than John could ever imagine being with Karkat.

He still really wanted to be friends with him though, but he was being difficult about it. As funny as his little rage tantrums were, John was pretty sure Karkat hated him at least half the time. He tried to take it all in stride like Dave would have done, but underneath the jokes and chuckling attempts to lift the mood, it really bugged him that the troll refused to cooperate with his epic friendly bonding activities.

John finally turned down the hall way to his respite block to find a very large, ugly creature standing a few yards further down the hall with “OGRE” tattooed across its forehead. Well that was unusual; the bioengineered warriors the enemy Skaian forces looked exactly like that. The two stared at each other for a moment before their attention was drawn to the red flashing light that emerged from the wall, “WARNING. WARNING. THE STATION IS UNDER ATTACK. PLEASE REPORT TO BATTLE STATIONS. WARNING. WARNING. THE STATION IS UNDER ATTACK.”

 **== > John: Prepare to strife**

Figuring now would be a good time to extract his hammer from his strife sylladex, rather than ponder how the hell it got inside in the first place; he drew his weapon but took a few steps back. He had not ever actually killed a living being before. Sure it was bioengineered, but it was still technically alive unlike the training bots he was used to smashing in.

The Ogre quickly closed the distance between them with thudding steps, looming over the human as he continued to hesitate. John breathed out a curse as he realized a little too late that his indecision left in opening for an incoming fist and braced himself for the impact. However, he was shoved aside by a grey blur and the Ogre’s arm flopped uselessly to the ground with a spray of black tar-like blood. The blur turned out to be a very disgruntled Karkat, who made quick work of the howling creature with a snarl of his own, before turn on his heals to face John.

“What the hell is in your sad excuse for a think pan? Why the fuck would you just stand there gawking at it like a wriggler and let it fucking pummel you to death. Are you retarded or something? It could have killed you! What the fuck, John?” The troll scolded, only to be shoved down himself as John returned the favor, pushing him out of the range of a second, smaller creature with “IMP” tattooed on it.

Acting on instinct, John lifted his hammer and swung it at the Imp, connecting with its head with a sickening crunch and another spray of tar. He gagged and dropped his hammer with a shuttering gasp. Oh gog, he just killed that thing. It was nothing like destroying a robot. There was no metallic twang of metal meeting metal, but the give of flesh beneath his swing which made his stomach turn. The worst part was knowing that where a robot could be repaired, this thing was truly dead; there was no coming back from having your head smashed in like a watermelon.

Karkat looked at the dead Imp from his seat on the ground, “see, that’s what you should have done with the other one….but thanks, I guess,” he glanced up at the human when the hammer thudded to the floor beside him, “What, what’s wrong?” When John babbled incoherently in return and took a step back, Karkat drug himself to his feet, “John?” He followed the human’s line of sight to the Imp and his mouth formed an ‘oh’ before he looked back to the other.

“John,” the human took yet another step back and shuddered. So Karkat followed after him, taking hold of his shoulders to keep him from retreating anymore, “John, look at me.” Still only receiving incoherent noises in response, the troll hunched down until he could capture John’s wide blue eyes with his own, “John, you didn’t do anything wrong. That thing would have just as soon gutted you if you didn’t kill it first.” He was interrupted by a whine of disbelief. “I’m serious John. You did the right thing. But now you need to pull yourself the fuck together because you’ve got job to do. You still have to pilot and I’m not going to die because you’re having some human moral crisis. You are a soldier. Your job is to kill.”

John began to tremble, just barely, but he was likely to get worse if Karkat didn’t do something. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath. Why did he have to be so terrible at this?

When his sensitive ears picked up the sound of someone/thing coming he grabbed John’s wrist and pulled him into the maintenance stairwell down the hall, praying that they wouldn’t get caught there. He quickly dropped the human’s arm as soon as they entered to discreetly double check that they hadn’t been seen and secure the door.

Meanwhile, John backed himself into the corner of the landing and began to outright shake, stirring a surge of pity in the troll when he turned to him. “John?,” Karkat whispered as he approached him. To which John gave a gasping sob and started to collapse as his knees gave out from the stress of his inner turmoil. The troll swooped in like a mother cluckbeast to catch him, easing them both to the floor. “Shh, shhh,” he cooed, mindful of his claws as he stroked his grey hands over John’s face, “it’s okay, it’s okay. Calm down.” However, this only seemed to make him sputter and sob more, diving in to cling to Karkat and cry into the shoulder of his jacket. The troll froze when John latched onto him, not quite sure what to do and far from comfortable with it. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around him and awkwardly patted his back, “um, right…”

Rearranging them into a more comfortable position when John began to hyperventilate between his sobs, Karkat rubbed his back in soothing circles in an attempt to calm him down, continuing to shush him and throwing in the occasional “it’s okay” and “breath, John.” He almost wanted to cry himself, frustrated that nothing he did seemed to really do anything to quiet the human. He felt like a complete failure.

A troll was more likely to give into rage than to cry, and comforting an angry troll was much different than this. Adding to his confusion, where it was normal for a human to seek physical comfort, trolls were only affectionate with their matesprits and on rare occasions their moirails. So needless to say, the human’s closeness was unsettling.

‘Oh thank gog,” he thought when John eventually wore himself out to silent quivering, but still clung to Karkat’s shirt. The troll pulled away enough to look at John’s red puffy eyes and spoke as gently as he was capable of, “John, I know it’s hard, but I need you to pull yourself together. They’ll cull us both for treason or desertion or whatever if we don’t show up on the flight deck or dead somewhere.“ He paused to wipe the dampness of John’s face with one of his sleeves before forcing the human to look at him, “I want you to forget everything that happened between your training and getting into that cockpit, okay? Forget all of it. None of this ever happened.”

John nodded numbly and choked out an “okay” before Karkat dug a capsule pack from his pocket and popped a pill out to give to the other, “Here, this will help you focus.” He took the pill without question, Karkat briefly wondering if it would still have the same effect on a human after the fact, but was relieved to find John seemed to be a bit more stable a few minutes later.


End file.
